The Dragon and the Wisp
by EvilCheesecake
Summary: Ulnar, the Seventeenth Dragon Lord, does not want to be disturbed. And woe betide any foolish enough to wake him...


The Dragon and the Wisp

Ulnar, the Seventeenth Dragon Lord of the Travar Mountains, renowned for his year-long reign of terror and brutality that had decimated the population of almost every species in the mountains, was asleep.

As was customary for the dragons of Travar, he had retired at the end of his Golden Year to rest in a cavern filled with tributes from the people he ruled. The fear that he had created meant that he lay on top of a mound of gold so large that, if he ever awoke, would make it difficult for him to leave the cavern.

On this day, a slightly lost wisp, so inconsequential as to have no name or title, had the misfortune to find itself in that particular cavern. Such an event may have escaped Ulnar's notice, were it not for the highly reflective pile of gold ornaments that he slept upon.

The amount of light that a wisp gives off is roughly similar to a star in the night sky. However, the myriad images of the wisp combined to fill the cavern with shimmering golden light, as if a sun had been born within it.

As the harsh light burned through the dragon's eyelids, the cavern was slowly filled with a rumble that became a roar that became a thunderous cry of rage. The Travar Mountains shook as if in fear that the Seventeenth Lord had returned to claim another Golden Year.

The wisp found itself suffering the full intensity of a dragon's stare. It was testament to its courage, or to its ignorance, that it did not fade into thin air out of fright. It also managed to hold itself together as the roar quietened to be replaced by a booming voice, dripping with arrogance and impatience.

"What is this pathetic sliver of dust that dares command the attentions of the most feared of the Dragon Lords? By what right would you enter my domain and incur my suffrage? Have you a name, that it may live on in ages long past the seconds of time that now form your future? Speak, if you deem yourself worthy of such an act!"

"I have no name, my Lord, and if I did it could not stand against yours with its majesty. However, I can offer simply this: a riddle, one that may prove beyond even your sizeable intellect."

The sound of dragon laughter is something to behold. If an earthquake could carry an air of amusement, it would go some way to approximating the occasion.

"This I would hear! Ask away, miniscule particle of radiance!"

"Very well. My riddle is thus: why is it that the reign of the Dragon Lords is kept to a single Golden Year?"

"Hah! This I can answer from experience. We burn our name into legend with such ferocity and vigour that after a single year we fall, exhausted, to rest for centuries. It has been said that the First Lord shall awake one day to claim another Golden Year, and that it will be the end of the line. But you have given me the chance to steal his resurrection! For that I must thank you, puff of insignificance."

"At the risk of furthering your wrath, most feared Lord of Travar, I must tell you that it is for a different reason."

Again, the cavern was filled with a deep and resonant roar. Several boulders fell from the roof, smashing unnoticed against the thick scales of the fearless dragon.

"You have the arrogance to claim knowledge of our reign, based on your few pathetic days as an overblown firefly? I would consider your next words very carefully, or you may not have long to regret saying them."

"It is often the case that the meek convince the strong that they are getting what they want. In this case, the races of Travar give each dragon one year of Lordship in order to put them in a position where they almost willingly submit to a sleeping spell. It is to my immense regret that your particular spell was disrupted."

At this, the great and dignified dragon began snapping at the wisp in an effort to capture it in his mouth. However, every attempt was thwarted at the last second.

"I shall give you as long as you wish to contemplate that particular error from within my stomach," he bellowed, and made another snap. This one was fortunate enough to ensnare the helpless wisp in the dragon's mouth.

A single gulp forced the wisp down his gullet. The corrosive fluids in the dragon's oesophagus began to tear at the body of the wisp until only a spark remained, held together with the greatest of mental effort.

"Perhaps I have shown you now that there are some too powerful to be controlled by the meek," Ulnar said to himself. The internal resonances carried this triumphant comment to the remains of the wisp, who resolved that its last spark would be put to good use.

A few minutes later, the wisp passed from the dragon's intestines to his bloodstream. The last spark surged through the veins until it passed into the heart, where it became the tiniest arc of electricity that caused a slight spasm in a piece of heart muscle.

Still in fits of victorious laughter, Ulnar, the Seventeenth Dragon Lord of the Travar Mountains, felt a crippling pain from his chest. He fell down dead.

Although his Golden Year remains feared even to this day, no being has since checked whether the Seventeenth Lord is still alive.


End file.
